


Loyal

by alwaysinrainymood



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysinrainymood/pseuds/alwaysinrainymood
Summary: Being back with My Chemical Romance made Frank travel in time; it was almost as if no day had passed since the last show, eight years ago. This was reflected not only in the dynamics of the band, but also in the inevitable attraction between him and Gerard. This, however, could not undo all the important changes that had taken place in Frank's life so far, and the main one was his family. He now found himself in an endless conflict between giving in to his wishes and remaining loyal to his family. What could he do?
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Jamia Nestor, Lindsey Ballato/Gerard Way
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19
Collections: mychemweek





	Loyal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Loyal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102676) by [alwaysinrainymood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysinrainymood/pseuds/alwaysinrainymood). 



Sometimes, it was like time had never passed. 

Actually, that was a secret and guilty pleasure Frank kept to himself: pretending he was traveling in time, as let himself get fascinated by everything he was going through. It wasn't hard; he just had to close his eyes and let go.

For example, now: with closed eyes, he felt his hearing sharpening, and he could identify Mikey’s steps along the backstage wood floor. His old habit of keep walking around, shaking his head slowly, rehearsing the setlist silently.

And Ray was a few steps away, sitting on the sofa, in a ritual similar to Mikey’s, but even quieter, his movements resumed in fingers that ran through the air as if they were holding an invisible guitar, his eyes attentive as if he could actually see the instrument there.

Jarrod was there too, and maybe he was the biggest time marker of all. Frank’s memory would always cheat him with the picture of a blonde beard, green eyes and low laughter, with the most silent concentration of all. That was the part that made him move uncomfortably in his mental time travel, and he felt obliged to shake his head to kick out the ten year old demons.

The other part of the band was the one to make his exercise easy and pleasurable again: it was easy to differentiate Mikey’s and Gerard’s steps, because the older Way walked quickly, agitating his arms and the air around him, sending energy all over the room. Sometimes he would jump - even though, nowadays, less often - and try to warm up his voice, throwing inside half cup of any liquid he had around - and Frank was felt very thankful for the drastic change in what he liked to drink these days.

He sighed, resting his head against the sofa, crossing his hand on his belly, lost in his own pre concert ritual. Everything was so the same, and he could easily feel like he was back in 2006, playing with his favorite band, with his best friends, surprised by the visibility the band had gotten since the year before. He almost laughed, imagining Gerard once again wearing  _ the patient _ ’s clothes, almost getting to listen to the initial beeps of  _ The End _ .

Taking a deep breath, he could feel his own body lighter and younger, feeling the heavy weight of a faded black jacket, counterbalancing the lightness of the absence of a ring on his left finger.

He swallowed dry, thinking it was too weird to think about his life without his kids, in a house other than the one he shared with Jamia since so many years ago. He almost felt like an impostor inside a 2000’s punk rocker’s body.

Frank opened his eyes, feeling the reality hitting his body once again - fifteen years older, a billion events printed on his skin, realizing that the people around him were not as close as they were before, and that this was a return. And a return, at first, meant coming back after an interruption. In this case, a long and troubled interruption. 

He exhaled, supporting his elbows on his thighs and his head on his hands. The hair that fell on his face took him back to the fantasy, as long as it was fourteen years ago. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath and repeating to himself the same words he said at any other concert of that band, since the first one:  _ may I be worthy of this opportunity, may I achieve all expectations, both from the band and from the public; may we get to play the best concert of our lives tonight, and may we always be loyal to our purposes and to our life- _

“May I be worthy of this opportunity, may I achieve all expectations, both from the band and from the public; may we get to play the best concert of our lives tonight, and may we always be loyal to our purposes and to our life philosophy.”

Even though the words coming from the person sitting beside him made Frank freeze his own, he didn’t move. He kept his eyes closed, hearing his personal pray coming from Gerard, and his mind took the time trip entirely by itself. In his imagination, the man beside him had short, blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and a challenging smile. He also wore the black jacked, but with a capital pin on it, putting him as a leader. He smelt like old cigarettes, and new ones, coming straight from his warm breath.

The small difference that made him open his eyes again to come back to reality was the absence of signs of any other drugs.

“It’s more weird that you remember this shit, than the fact that I still do it,” Frank teased, turning his head lightly to face a 44 year old Gerard, who was smiling and had pink, glowing skin, contrasting so much with the one on his mind a few seconds ago.

“It has been twenty years hearing you say the same thing, Frankie. There’s nothing weird with me remembering it.”

“Actually, it has been thirteen years, but it’s okay.”

Gerard laughed softly, shaking his head as he stared at the floor and ran his palms over his legs, seeming to evaluate the words he would say next. His hair, long and, for the first time in many years, in natural brown color, followed the back and forth movements that he unconsciously did with his spine. Finally, he shrugged and licked his lips.

“For how many times were you sure we played the best concerts of our lives? How many times have you had your wish coming true?”

Frank blinked, straightening his back, laying against the sofa. He thought for a few seconds, and couldn’t think about any concert being the best of his life.

“I think any show I get to finish is already the best one of my life.” .

“It can’t be that simple,” Gerard argued.

“But it is,” Frank guaranteed. “Even though a few of them were more remarkable than others. But being remarkable doesn’t mean it’s better. It’s just... Remarkable for a reason. And it doesn’t even need to be a good reason. Like Hoboken, 2007. It was remarkable, but it wasn’t better than any other.”

_ Maybe it was the worse one _ , but those words Frank rathered keep to himself.

Gerard didn’t say a thing, but Frank could almost hear an apology in his mind.

Or was it his wishful imagination cheating on him once again?

Slightly annoyed for no special reason, Frank got up from the sofa. Walked to the door and took a deep breath. Looked at the watch on the wall once more before opening the door.

It was time to come back to reality.

[...]

The most ironic thing of all was that being on stage was irritatingly the same as the last time - before the fight, the break, the end. The audience seemed to have aged a bit, it is true, but the youthful energy he felt growing inside himself transcended from those who jumped in the tangle of people in front of him.

He smiled to himself, playing his guitar as easily as ever, as if he hadn't spent so many years of his life without playing those notes, trying to avoid thinking about those melodies. And by his side, his friends continued to do their best, as always, just as happy for being back here.

Well, Frank had to admit that he could no longer spin, jump, run and throw whatever he had in his hands to the air. His shoulder, which still carried the memory of an accident, complained every time he got too excited. And that's fine. Thrashing around on stage was a memory of someone he could no longer see himself into. What example would he set for his children if he started to behave like a poorly bred kid on stage again, handing out free kicks and slaps, going out of his mind with the simple trance of music?

The limitations imposed by time and life, however, had a bright side. Now, he could watch more closely every second of his band playing, watching the audience’s and the other musicians’ reactions with the emotion of each new song.

And let's face it... It was impossible not to watch Gerard making the same likely nostalgic trip as Frank - probably unconsciously - every time he let go and redid the movements of his hips in classic song moments. His arms moved by themselves as his hips rippled in the air and his face moved to the side, the microphone picking up the sounds that Destroya's bridge demanded. Or when in Teenagers he got excited enough to modulate his own voice according to the song’s demands, sneaking his body into the posture of a defiant teenager. Even at the end of Mama, when Gerard pretended to cry at the microphone, in a sly and sensual whimper that Frank had forced him to redo so many times behind the curtains of a bunk.

Frank closed his eyes tightly, cursing himself for not being able to contain the memory. That was the hardest part of it all... The most painful part of going back, of traveling back in time, of getting lost in nostalgia - not every part of the past should be revisited. The hottest memories, lived on the sly (and sometimes not so much) behind curtains, buses, hotel room doors and texts, had gotten a silent censor over the years, and they definitely didn't match with the current reality.

But it was so hard ... It was so hard to forget the light skin under layers of sweat, the hips that waved as easily as a dance on stage, pink nipples, muffled moans, endless kisses and raw pleasure. Twists in the sheets, the sound of skin in contact, whispers in the midst of delusions, forbidden confessions and hands that grasped, squeezed, scratched with the same skill they caressed. For so many times, for so many years, in so many different physical conditions and emotional moments, for so many reasons, and for the same one. The memories that danced in flashes in Frank's mind, as he watched his fingers run through the guitar automatically, contained so many versions of Gerard and himself, with such precise time markers - long dark hair, short and dirty, blond and red . The body that has changed its shape so many times, but always with the same heat, the same smell, the same passion; which housed the same heart that beat fast while strong legs moved him up and down; or when it was time to sleep and secret words were whispered in the dark. It was so hard to let go of everything ,and just as hard not to imagine the green jacket lying on the floor, the brown hair stuck to the skin of his neck, lush red cheeks, healthy shiny green eyes and thin wet lips, panting hot air against Frank’s tattooed skin.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, squinting harder, trying desperately to get the images out of his head. His hands gripped the guitar tighter, his teeth clenched.

“Are you okay, Frankie?”

He opened his eyes to face the owner of the questioning voice, in such a serene tone. Gerard's cheeks were as red as Frank imagined them, his breath was warm and close to his own face. He swallowed and nodded, turning his face away and taking advantage of the cue between songs to get away, walking backwards and pouring almost an entire bottle of water into his body.

The problem was that, once freed, the images Frank had locked up in the back of his memory came around all the time, with no control. His effort to get rid of them was active, watching his reactions all the time when Gerard was around. Frank had to actually  _ think about forgetting _ , keeping his thoughts distracted and entertained enough not to give in to the temptation.

Because said temptation was around all the time. With the same voice, the same laugh, same conversations. It was too easy to give in.

But he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t. Not at all. Never again.

And that was the reason Frank had to run back to the safety of backstage after every concert. He would literally run, saying goodbye to the public with the biggest emotion and thankfulness he could express in five seconds, just so he could hurry and lock himself up inside any room he could be alone.

He held the sink with his two hands, panting both because of emotion, excitement and tiredness after a long concert, and for the run he had just taken. He looked at the floor, seeing the reaction of his own body to the incident he had on stage. 

“Fuck,” he cursed lowly, to himself. It was impressive how fast his thoughts managed to have effects. At first opportunity it would betray him in the most miserable possible way. 

He closed his eyes again, trying to think about anything else: New Jersey streets, so far away from here; his children’s smiles, the excited laughters and the noise they’d make at the first hours of the morning. 

And then, he thought about his wife’s serious face, her hair spread over the pillow. Straight, so black it was almost blue, with a few white strands within the dark immensity. Frank could see her sleeping with her back to him, comfortable and sprawled over the bed they’ve been sharing for the last fifteen years now. He thought about how she had already dealt with so many problems like those in the past, and how she  _ definitely _ didn’t deserve to go through them again. Jamia had been understanding enough for a lifetime, things were different now. 

But it has been so long since they shared a bed as lovers… Obviously things were not how they were before, as it would happen with any other couple on Earth. Parenting, age, life, tiredness, routine… Frank still loved her unconditionally, but he missed physical love  _ so much _ ….

He stamped his foot on the foot on the floor, annoyed with himself when he couldn’t control the memories coming back once more, of a red haired Gerard with visible prominent bones when his body was thrown back on the bed, showing his neck, his upper body twitching with pleasure. Frank moaned lowly, both from frustration and arousement, feeling his cock twitching under his clothes. The hand he used to touch himself clutched with more intention of hurting than pleasure. 

He almost had to physically remove his hand from his cock, so hard it was to stop himself from getting some release right here, letting all the memories take control, work by themselves. But he couldn’t. Not here, not like this. Not with  _ those _ thoughts. Later, he would resort to memories of his own wife, or some other erotic story he found online.  _ Anything _ to shake this annoying sexual frustration off his bones. 

Later and feeling calmer, Frank opened the restroom door, walking to the dressing room as slowly as he could, singing a child song in his mind, thinking about a funny memory he had of Miles running around when he was learning to walk. Safe, happy and healthy thoughts, of his real and current life. 

The dressing room was already empty when Frank got there. He had no idea how long he stayed inside the restroom, but the band would never stay around for too long after concerts. Quickly justifying himself to the few staff he found on his way out, he didn’t even try to find his mates, prefering to make his way to the hotel all alone. 

(...)

  
  


Everytime Frank would leave the shower after a concert, it was like life was coming back to his body. Some part he didn’t even know that was missing was once more joining his spirit, he felt whole again. And eveytime he had that feeling, he would ask himself how  _ the fuck _ he had managed to spend so long without having a proper shower after nights and nights playing in crowded places. 

He returned to the bedroom with his body still damp, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping on the wooden floor. He threw the used clothes over the suitcase in the corner of the room and put his underwear on the skin still covered with water droplets. He rubbed a towel over his hair and then quickly ran it over his legs before getting into the flannel pants he had been wearing for over a week. He lied down on the bed and got his phone.

If the time zone allowed, this would be the time he would call Jamia. They would talk about her routine, and she would fill him in with as much detail as possible, already aware of the regret Frank felt everytime he distanced himself from their children. Jamia would start by narrating what they ate for breakfast, the fights they had until lunchtime and give him an update on the difficulties of convincing Lily to eat vegetables. She would certainly say that Miles took the sacred nap that went on until mid-afternoon, and how Cherry insisted on baking a cake in the early evening. And finally, she would tell him about long conversations she would have had with them on any subject, solving curiosities and telling old stories, which now replaced the stories read for sleeping. Frank's heart sank at the thought of his home routine, the lack of thin voices and high-pitched laughter. Nights like this, when he was so far away that Jamia and the children had already gone into heavy sleep, were the worst. It was like the world was punishing him for selfish choices.

Frank put his phone over his chest and threw an arm over his eyes. His legs were tingling with tiredness, but sleep had not yet come. Sighing, he stretched out his arm, turning off the lights, but turning on the television next - the noise would certainly take him to a comfortable sleep in a few minutes.

And it was working. Until three knocks on the door wake him up. 

Frank turned in bed, deciding to ignore. He definitely was not interested in room service now, even though he recognized he needed to eat. He grumbled to himself and closed his eyes. 

But his phone started to buzz on the mattress, and he picked it up immediately, thinking it was Jamia calling him. 

“I thought you were asleep! What happened?”

_ “Hm… It’s still early to sleep. Actually, I’m at your door. If you don’t mind, you could open it…” _

Frank’s eyes went wide, and he hoped Gerard hadn’t heard how loud he gasped. 

“Gee?”

_ “Yep _ ,” Frank recognized a quick laugh.  _ “Right here _ .”

It still took a while for the guitarist to react. He spent a few seconds standing on the mattress, staring at the television without being able to see anything the scenes showed. He blinked, realizing that Gerard was still on the phone and looked at the door.

“Now?! Did something happen? Are you okay?”

_ “Yeah, Frankie, I’m fine. I just want to talk.” _

It was true, from the light, laughing tone of Gerard's words. Still confused, Frank hung up and got out of bed, walking to the door without even turning on the light, opening it with an apology on the tip of his tongue.

“Hey, Gee. Sorry, I was almost asleep.”

“Am I disturbing you? I can come back tomorrow.”

“No, no,” Frank took a step back, opening the door. “Come in.”

He didn't need a second invitation, Gerard was already walking into the suite. Frank watched him now, and guessed that the older man had done similar things until now. From here, Frank could smell the soap, Gerard's skin was fresh and clean. His clothes were probably the same he would wear to sleep - a flared shirt, cotton pants and slippers - and Frank couldn't imagine why he had taken the trouble to come here now.

“Did something happen?” He asked again.

“No,” Gerard shook his head, turning so he could look at Frank, his hands inside the pockets of his pants. “Actually, I came here to ask you the same thing.”

“Ask me? Why?”

“You disappeared! After the concert, I mean. I… I was worried. We didn’t see you, and then they told us you left by Uber.”

“Ah,” Frank took his hand to the back of his head, feeling his hair soaked. “I just went to the restroom. And called Jamia.”

It was a lie, but it would justify the time he spent inside the restroom alone, and could avoid any other questions. It worked, because Gerard nodded. 

“I used to do the same with Lyn. After concerts.”

“Hm… Not anymore?”

“No,” he shrugged. “We used to talk about Bandit, and she’s grown now. Things are a little different.”

Frank didn’t know what that meant and of course he was curious, but it was for the best not to ask. He just nodded.

Gerard’s personal life, nowadays, was almost a mystery. He was still married, living in the same house he moved into years ago, where Frank had been only a couple of times. Bandit was almost a teenager and it was her that Gerard was always talking about - she adored her, her strong personality, and he was notoriously proud of every single little step she took by herself. 

And that was all Frank knew. 

Much differently from Frank himself, who would never shut up about his children, his home routine, his big backyard full of different animals; about his wife, the things they loved to do in Jersey.... His personal life was like an open book, especially for his friends. Gerard’s, not so much.

“I understand… Do you… Do you wanna drink something? I didn’t check the minibar, but I’m sure there’s some coke, water, whatever. What do you want?”

Frank was already moving towards the minibar, which was a few feet behind Gerard, but when he passed him, he felt his wrist being grabbed. He stopped, a little shocked by the touch, and faced the older man, who had a timid, restrained and, at the same time, anxious expression.

“I don’t wanna drink anything. I have the same things in my room,” he tried to joke, but Frank didn’t laugh. So he continued to speak, his lips shyly contracted, his hand still wrapping around Frank’s. “I wanted to congratulate you for the concert. It was really good.”

“Oh! Oh, okay, Gee.”

It was an awful reply, but Frank simply didn’t know what else to say. He watched Gerard nod to himself:

“I think I don’t say enough how glad I am for us being back. But I… I feel like I’m in another moment of my life when I’m with you guys on stage… When I’m with you there.”

Frank swallowed dry.

“I think I know the feeling.”

“It’s more than that! When I’m with you, like this. It’s been so long since I’ve wanted to tell you this, Frankie, and it’s never the right time. There’s always someone around, we’re always too busy… I… I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that we were so distant in these past years. You are too important to me, Frankie, I can’t lose you. Never.”

“Gee, I think… It’s fine. Things happened the way they should have happened, it’s not worth it to keep thinking about-”

“No, it didn’t happen this way. I decided to go away, that was a wrong choice. I made so many wrong choices…” He took one step ahead, and then another. Still holding Frank’s arm, Gerard had his body right against Frank’s. “I would do so many things differently, Frankie…”

“You did what you thought that was right. Don’t torture yourself, Gerard.”

Frank's tone was so restrained and serious, he managed to demonstrate how literally he was holding himself in place. His entire body was rigid, tense, under alert. The proximity was ungrateful, because here, the smell of freshness and Gerard was so intense that he could barely think. His eyes were heavy, tempted to close to let the other senses revel in the sensation, but Frank forced himself to keep them open.

“I need you to tell me you forgive me, and that everything is okay,” Gerard begged in a whisper. “I want to be close again! We’re back, I wanna live it all again. Our band, our history… I wanna feel like I’m alive again, Frankie.”

“Gee… I have nothing to forgive, of course it’s all okay. We’re here, right? I would have never returned if I didn’t believe you, if I didn’t believe in the band. We’re doing great!”

“I know, but,” Gerard closed his eyes again and got closer. Now, Frank could feel his breath right on his face, and he couldn’t avoid his eyes closing. “I can’t think about any other thing I could want more than I want you now.”

The confession, whispered in the dark, came along a cheek touching Frank’s face, and then the cold pointy nose that was tracing a way that led into a known destiny.

Frank turned his face away when he felt Gerard move his own face to kiss him. 

“Gerard, no.”

“Why not?” The older one asked, his nose still touching Frank’s skin. “You want it too, Frank. I know you do.”

It was not a lie, after all, Gerard could certainly feel Frank's body contradicting his words. To prove it, however, the singer took one leg between Frank's causing a friction that was as delicious as wrong. Frank swallowed his moan and felt like whining - he wanted it so, so much ...

“Gee, please. Please,” it was a true, desperate plea. Gerard left kisses under his year, taking him in his arms, pulling him so Frank would be the one rubbing against him. “I can’t”

“Give me a good reason. Only one, and I’ll leave.”

“It’s not about the two of us,” he said, his eyes still closed, trying not to give in to the caresses. “We’re over this.”

“We’re alone here,” Gerard’s words were at the tip of this tongue. “It was always like that, Frankie. In our world, there are only the two of us. It never affected our lives outside.”

Gerard's hands came down and were dangerously close to Frank's ass. The younger one squinted and rested his forehead on Gerard's shoulder, making an almost inhuman effort to resist, repeating to himself the mantra  _ I cannot, I cannot, I cannot. _

Because he really couldn't. It was fun to think that he was going back in time now and then, but Frank was quite sure of the limits of reality. He was no longer in his early twenties. Everything had changed: the molds of his marriage, his conception of life, the meaning of his own existence. It was no longer about himself, about Gerard, not even about Jamia. He was a fundamental part of a family now.

“There’s no world for us, Gee.” He opened his eyes, starting at Gerard’s. “We cannot pretend to have anything we don’t. We never had.”

“Baby,” Gerard took one of his hands to Frank’s face, in a slow caress. “We never pretended anything. It was always real, and it will always be. No matter the choices we made in the past.”

It was so real, it hurt. So real, it had destroyed both of them so many times. So real, it had teared apart third, fourth and fifth characters of their story. 

Too real to ever happen again.

Frank took Gerard’s hand on his face, leaving it there for a few seconds as they looked at each other. He licked his lips, and watched Gerard’s eyes follow his tongue, his face getting closer.

And Frank removed Gerard’s hand from his face and took a step back.

“It’s not about the choices we made, Gee. It’s about their consequences. We can’t.”

Gerard felt his throat close. The urge to cry was almost uncontrollable, both because he knew Frank was right and because  _ he didn't want _ Frank to be right. At that moment, it was he realized the difference the years brought was not just in their bodies, in the technology ten years more advanced, in the marks that time had left in the corners of his eyes: it was in the way Frank now overlapped the most important things in his life over everything else.

He nodded, feeling upset, but understanding. Took his distance, swallowing the stubborn cry down his throat, feeling his eyes full of tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m behaving ridiculously. I took it all wrong. I’m really sorry. I’ll go back to my room, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Frank watched him walk away, well aware that it would be best for everyone. But why did it hurt so much? Why was it so difficult to see Gerard with tears in his eyes, frustrated, hurt? Why did it still tingle his chest to see the older man leave again?

Probably because of that, Frank caught himself calling Gerard when he opened the door to leave.

“Wait.”

Gerard stopped and turned around, his eyes shining with the tears and hope. Frank took a deep breath, feeling lost, and waved for Gerard to come back.

“Listen,” he took Gerard’s hands in his, intertwining their fingers, feeling the cold of Gerard’s ring against his skin. “My feelings for you will never die. Regardless of what happens, regardless of where I go. You’re part of me, I’ve accepted that.”

“Me too,” Gerard nodded quickly, kissing Frank’s hand with so much concentration, it made him close his eyes and frown. “I’ve loved you for so long, there’s no way back. I wish I had known this before, I swear I’d have done so many things differently.. Frank, I would. I’d have-”

“But you didn’t,” Frank smiled sadly. “And neither did I, and I don’t think I would, Gee, I’d never give up on my children, for anything in this world. Not even for you.”

“I know,” he nodded again. “I know, and I’d never give up on Bee. But if I’d known  _ before  _ I…”

“I think you knew your feelings before too,” Frank said, removing his hands from under Gerard’s to involve his face. “We had six years together when you made your choice, baby.  _ I _ was already sure it would be for fucking ever.”

Gerard didn’t reply, because he felt ashamed. Frank was  _ so _ right, it was embarrassing. Definitely, the reasons why he chose to leave Frank had nothing to do with lack of love. 

“But I-”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Frank interrupted him. “We are fifteen years late for this conversation. I just want you to now that I’m not saying no because I don’t want you. I really do, and that’s not a secret. I know this, you know this, Jam knows this… Everybody does.”

“Then why can’t we-”

“Because it’s not about what I want anymore. You know?”

Gerard wanted to say no, but that would be another lie. Of course he knew, he was just not strong enough to admit or do the same as Frank. If it depended exclusively on him, they would be having sex right on that bed right now, and deal with the consequences later - maybe never deal with them. But he nodded, because he also knew that Frank was more noble than him. 

“I don’t know if I can do this, Frankie. I don’t know if I can see you everyday, remember everything we’ve been through and… And keep my distance. I can’t do this, I  _ never _ did this before.”

Frank took a tired breath, using his fingers around Gerard’s face to caress him lightly.

“I think we’ll need to figure that out together.’

Gerard laughed lowly, because Frank’s tone showed that he was talking more to himself than to Gerard. He nodded and sniffed, taking Frank’s hand and kissing them once more before moving back.

“Well… I’ll leave, because… I’m sorry I’m being explicit, I swear I don’t want to tease you, but… There’s this concert tension I need to get rid of. I was hoping I could do that with you, but it’s not happening, so…”

Frank laughed and Gerard followed him. Frank looked at the floor, biting his bottom lip, an idea growing inside his mind.

It was an awful idea. Awful. The worst night’s worst contradiction, an incontestable hypocrisy. Gerard would probably laugh and tell him to go  _ fuck himself _ , but… It would be a perfect middle path to both make his heart feel better, and to stop the sexual tension that probably wouldn’t die there. 

However, of all stupid things he could do tonight, that was the smallest one.

“Right. Listen. I want to ask you something.”

“Ask me?”

“Yeah. You can say no. Actually, I think you  _ should _ say no, and you can leave through that door and we’ll still be fine, I promise. But if I don’t say this, I think I might die here.”

Gerard laughed, squeezing Frank’s fingers.

“I’d never do that.”

“I think you might.” He panted while looking at the ceiling, trying to be brave enough to verbalize what he was already imagining. “You can… Take care of that tension… Here.”

Gerard raised his eyebrows.

“Here?”

“Yeah. We… I’m kinda doing the same anyway and… We’re not going to do anything else, but… I don’t know. I think it’s better than not doing anything at all.”

“Are you asking me to stay and jerk off in front of you? While you do the same?”

“It sounds way worse when you say it out loud,” he covered his face with his hands, embarrassed. “Forget it. Forget it, what an stupid idea! It’s awful, I’m so sorry, I don’t-”

“How are we doing this? In bed? Or do you want me to sit on that chair under the window?”

Frank gasped.

“Do you wanna do it?!”

“Of fucking course,” Gerard pulled his pants down, kicking them away together with his shoes, already starting to push Frank’s shirt upwards. “In bed?”

The euphoria and anticipation made it difficult for Frank to formulate the right words, or even to think straight. He imagined both situations, but decided that keeping his hands off Gerard while they were side by side in bed would be much more difficult.

“You go to the chair and I’ll be in bed. Ok?”

Gerard nodded as he pulled Frank's pants down. Frank walked away to go to bed. At that moment, he thanked the heavens for the dimness of the room. He turned off the TV, but turned on the two reading lamps on either side of the bed, which would help to light it up enough without killing him with shame or lust to do everything in a lit place.

The older man settled in the yellow chair and took a deep breath. He pulled his shirt up just far enough to show his underwear and spread his legs slightly. Frank hurried to lie down on the bed, arranging the pillows so he was comfortably turned towards Gerard, with an angle that allowed him to show up and watch at the same time.

He thought it would be difficult to start. The situation made him feel like a virgin teenager having his first sexual experiences, even if it didn't make any sense. His experiences with Gerard had happened in so many different ways, in so many different situations, but like this ... It would be unprecedented. That was why he was so tense, his heart was racing, with a slight regret.

However, Gerard was more excited than ever, and took charge of starting it all. He was the one who started stroking himself over his underwear, dispensing discretion while inspecting Frank's body with an attentive and willing look. His eyes darted over the tattoos on his thick thighs, lingering over the details of his bent knees, picturing himself tracing Frank’s skin with his hands and mouth. He moaned softly, feeling himself stiffen even more when he saw Frank make similar movements over his underwear, the excitement drawing of the youngest apparent in his white underwear, his tattooed belly rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing.

Frank's body still had the angles and designs that Gerard recognized, but the new arts and new ink that pigmented his skin made him salivate. The firm, strong arms, the chest darkened by the tattoos that rose and fell, the neck of smooth skin, the smell of sweat.

“You look so beautiful now…” He said, moaning, squeezing his cock. “Your body is a fucking canvas, Frankie.”

“You too,” he said, his voice heavy. He shoved his hand inside his underwear. “Gee…”

“Don’t do that,” Gerard begged. “Show me. Show me what you’re doing, let me see you…”

To encourage him, Gerard pushed his own underwear through his legs, kicking them in any direction before holding his own cock by the base, showing himself as an invitation for Frank to do the same.

At that moment, the guitarist had to close his eyes and moan loudly, feeling his excitement squirm in his hand. So many memories, so much desire ... Flashes of images in which Frank saw Gerard in the same way from different angles - while he was on his knees, above him on the bed, or below, while the older man was going up and down throwing his head back, his cock dancing as he had Frank inside him; or while Frank himself felt the long centimeters invade his body in a delicious and nostalgic sting ... - passing quickly enough to make him dizzy.

“Show me, Frank…”

With his eyes still closed, Frank pushed his boxers along his legs and started to touch himself again.

“Look at me,” Gerard asked again.

Frank did as he was told, watching the older man use his whole hand to stimulate himself, making the known path of teasing the head and returning to the base, massaging the balls now and then. The guitarist imitated the movements without taking his eyes off Gerard's cock, the pink head making Frank salivate.

“What are you thinking about?” Gerard’s voice filled the silence once more. “I want to think about the same thing as you.”

Frank almost choked with spit, but, making his hand go faster, he said:

“I’m thinking about when I… When I sucked you off.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” He moaned, “There was a time when everything you wanted to do was to suck me off… I was fucking dying for you to- hmmmm… to fuck me, but you’d never take your mouth off my cock.”

Frank moaned louder, nodding to the memories. He lifted his hips, thrusting against his hand.

“You had your phase too.”

“I had,” Gerard bit his lip, drooling as he watched Frank’s cock disappear in his hand and show up again. “I think I’m still in it. You can fuck my mouth whenever you want.”

“Ohh fuck, stop it! Stop it, don’t… Oh!”

“If I could choose anything to fuck whenever I wanted, it certainly wouldn’t be your mouth. Or only it.”

Half-discredited by Frank’s words, Gerard positioned himself better on the sofa, spreading his legs wider, showing just enough to make Frank choke.

“There are other parts of my body that miss your cock just as much.”

“ _ Shiiiit,” _ Frank shut his eyes, panting. “Baby, I can’t- I’m so sorry, I can’t-”

“Look at me, Frankie. Make me come too.”

The moans that came out of Frank's mouth were so desperate, they would probably embarrass him later. But he only had to open his eyes and Gerard was spreading his legs further, angling his hips, showing off and speeding up the movements of his own hand while he watched Frank with his mouth ajar and his cheeks red, his eyes burning with lust even in distance. A closer look and the thought that Gerard's body was ready, in front of him, available and homesick, and it was enough for the orgasm to hit Frank so hard, it made him squirm all over, moan loudly and feel the liquid itself will spread over your belly and legs skin.

Even though his body was exhausted and numb, he forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching the pleasure reach Gerard's body, who was still watching him intently, but his restless hips thrust in the direction of his own hand. With the intention of pushing him to an intense orgasm, Frank lifted his upper body, running his hands through the drops of come spilled on his skin, taking one of them to his mouth. And Gerard moaned intensely, bending forward while he had narrowed eyes and a red face.

Neither of them knew what to do next. They remained lying where they were, staring at the ceiling, waiting for their breaths to return to normal and their thoughts to order. Frank ran his hands over his face, thinking about taking another shower before going to sleep, trying to push the blame away and avoid the thought that he would have to tell Jamia what had just happened.

A few minutes later, Gerard got up. Silently, he put on his clothes back on and lifted up his sleeves until they were wrapped around his elbow. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his forearm and walked over to Frank.

Frank thought Gerard would kiss him when he touched his chin. Even though he was mortified with the possibility, he didn’t move, but felt his heart relieved when Gerard’s lips pressed against his forehead.

“It was the best sex I had in years,” Gerard whispered, leaving another kiss on Frank’s temple and another one on his cheek. “And it wasn’t even sex.”

Frank laughed and kissed Gerard’s face.

“It was the best non-sex of my life too.”

Both of them laughed quietly and Gerard scratched his head.

“I’m going to sleep. Are we… We’re okay, yeah?”

Frank nodded.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

Gerard smiled and kissed his hands before leaving for his room.

Frank looked at the chair below the window and at his body covered by his underwear. He swallowed hard, thinking he had made a mistake, but still relieved that he had not given in to the urge to do more. It would have been easy, and at another point of his life, he would never have let Gerard leave, or let Gerard come away from his hands or his mouth.

There was strength in his weakness.

He stood up, feeling his throat dry. He opened the fridge and let his chest freeze with the water that ran down his throat.

His thirst did not cease. Although he still felt the kiss he wanted to leave on Gerard’s mouth stuck in his throat, he walked to the bathroom, letting the water coming from the shower wash away the sweat from his body. He thought of his children sleeping peacefully, of Jamia with their hair spread out over the pillow.

Perhaps he had not been faithful, but still, he had remained loyal to his family.

And that was what mattered.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
